


Angel's Trumpet

by indigorose50



Series: No Shame November Fics [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A Hopeless Amount Of Kisses, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Married Couple, Post-Canon, So Many I Love Yous It Stops Your Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigorose50/pseuds/indigorose50
Summary: [The Gautier estate was still as cold as ever, but greenery seemed to fill every room. Barren guest rooms now sported brilliant plant life. A whole wing with eastern-facing windows had become the largest greenhouse in Faerghus. All the servants had one kind of hand-knitted craft or another on their person, as well as warm smiles and genuine loyalty instead of the begrudging respect Sylvain had grown up with. In the library was a shelf that Bernadetta always blushed and turned away from, for it was filled with her own writing that Sylvain insisted on binding and displaying for all to see.Bernadetta was quiet by nature, but her spirit seemed to fill the once silent estate and make it a home; something Sylvain never failed to marvel at]Or; Sylvain loves his wife so much, even when an older Lord tries to make jokes.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Bernadetta von Varley
Series: No Shame November Fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997986
Comments: 15
Kudos: 58





	Angel's Trumpet

**Author's Note:**

> If it's not apparent by the tags, this story is fill to bursting with love and fluff. The idea was bestowed upon me by Moeblob, who has my eternal thanks, but it's also a very long shout out to my brother and his wife-- who just got married a month ago and already someone joked "So do you wanna divorce her yet?", which didn't land at all. 
> 
> Anyway, I could write Sylvain forever. And Bernadetta is very cute. And I hope you all enjoy this because even editing it made me smile like a goof.

There was nothing Sylvain loved more than a house full of life.

Growing up, with Miklan ignoring him at the best of times, Sylvain had always thought the Gautier estate too quiet. The fact that Felix came by with Rodrigue so often had been a blessing. Trips to the capital to meet with Dimitri and Ingrid were the highlights of his childhood. But the days or weeks in between were quiet— tutors did not make great company, especially when they brought their daughters along to see if Sylvain would look twice at them.

All that had changed with Bernadetta. Well, truthfully it had changed at Garreg Mach where there was always someone awake no matter how late the hour and Sylvain’s best friends in the world were right next door. It had changed when Sylvain joined the army trying to keep the country together, when the leaders of Fódlan banded together to attack Shambhala, when such things as Crests and bloodlines ceased to carry as much weight.

All that had changed the world and of course had an effect on Sylvain.

Marrying Bernadetta, though— that had changed Sylvain’s life even more.

The Gautier estate was still as cold as ever, but greenery seemed to fill every room. Barren guest rooms now sported brilliant plant life. A whole wing with eastern-facing windows had become the largest greenhouse in Faerghus. All the servants had one kind of hand-knitted craft or another on their person, as well as warm smiles and genuine loyalty instead of the begrudging respect Sylvain had grown up with. In the library was a shelf that Bernadetta always blushed and turned away from, for it was filled with her own writing that Sylvain insisted on binding and displaying for all to see. 

Bernadetta was quiet by nature, but her spirit seemed to fill the once silent estate and make it a home; something Sylvain never failed to marvel at. 

Currently, he was beside himself with giddiness as a servant told him the King had arrived. “Bernadetta! Dimitri and Ingrid are here!” He called into their room. 

The quilted lump on the bed gave a squeak. “I-I’m not ready yet! Tell them to wait!”

Sylvain grinned even as he sauntered over. “I can’t do that. He’s a king.” He pulled the quilt down to reveal his adorable wife. She was wearing a thick purple sweater that went past her waist, pale stockings, and lavender mittens. Her pout made his heart sing and he leaned forward to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear. “Come on. I know you’ve been looking forward to dinner with Ingrid. You based your newest character on her and I know you have a list of things to ask.”

The pout became tinged with red. “I should never have told you that. Fine, I’ll greet them with you.” Beaming, Sylvain stepped back and offered her a hand up. Once out of her quilt cocoon, Bernadetta rummaged through her bedside table drawer and pulled out a familiar wad of yarn. “But I’m going to wear  _ this _ .”

“Aw, come on, Bernie!”

She ignored him and plopped what could be generously called a hat on her head. It was the first thing Sylvain had tried to knit on his own after they began courting, and he had gifted it to Bernadetta only to be rewarded with a giggle of amusement as the subpar result. Nevertheless, Bernadetta kept it and often threatened to wear it in public when she grew annoyed with him. Like now. 

Sylvain gave a groan of protest as she took his hand and guided him from the room— but in all honesty, seeing the mess of blue and red yarn over her ears, keeping her warm despite the messy execution, never failed to bring Sylvain a burst of pride. 

The front doors were already open by the time the couple arrived downstairs. Dimitri was just climbing out of the carriage, Ingrid standing by the door. Sylvain raised his hand in greeting. Wide smiles took his friends’ faces. Three years since the war’s end and he never tired of those smiles. 

A second carriage pulled in behind Dimitri’s and Bernadetta tensed. Sylvain wrapped an arm around her. This was the real reason she had been so hesitant to leave the sanctity of their room— though Sylvain had heard nothing but positive things about Lord Toal, he was still a stranger to them both. 

Luckily, this was not a secret to any of their friends. As Lord Toal called out a greeting, Ingrid strode forward. Her hair was growing again, already touching her shoulders. The hair ribbons were gone but the half cape Sylvain had followed into battle more than once was still set firmly on her back. “Bernadetta! Dorothea wanted to apologize for not being able to come. The Fhirdiad branch of the opera company can’t be without her right now.”

“I-It’s okay!” Bernadetta relaxed visibly as Ingrid stepped to the side to block her from Lord Toal’s line of sight. “Is it really okay for you to be here, though? Weddings take a lot of planning.”

“That’s true! But I could use a break. Not that being his Highness’ personal guard on this journey is something that should be taken lightly, but it’s really been too long since I’ve seen you both.” Ingrid turned to Sylvain and the soothing demeanor was gone, replaced with a critical eye. “You need a shave.”

“No I don’t,” Sylvain protested. “Scruff keeps you warm up here.”

Bernadetta reached out a hand to stroke the flame red hair on Sylvain’s jaw. “And I like it.”

Sylvain kissed the top of her head. “And she likes it.”

“Ah! Young love!” Came a voice on the steps. “I remember when my wife used to be glued to my arm. Now she can’t stand to see me!”

Lord Toal was shorter than Dimitri and Sylvain, but he was built like Raphael. His thick brown hair was pulled back in a low tail. A mantle of monster fur covered his shoulders and his family’s coat of arms was emblazoned on his breastplate. The crow’s feet around his eyes spoke to his years but his smile as he shook Sylvain’s hand was almost boyish. “Duke Gautier! Wonderful to meet you at last. I’m sorry I haven’t made the trip up sooner.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have met under better circumstances,” Sylvain replied smoothly, not surprised when Bernadetta pressed against his side. “How was your journey? No attacks, I hope?”

“When you’re in the wake of the king himself, bandits think twice.” Lord Toal turned as Dimitri joined them. “Apologies, your Majesty, I should have let you approach first.”

Dimitri looked better every time Sylvain saw him. His armor shone like starlight even in the shadow of evening. The Crest of Blaiddyd was peppered throughout his attire; and though he was not wearing his crown, everything about him screamed royalty. 

“It’s quite alright.” Dimitri nodded to Lord Toal as the older man stepped aside. “Sylvain, my friend, how are you?”

Sylvain took the offered hand but only to pull him into a one armed hug. “Better for seeing you! Did you find a spot for the flowers we sent you yet? Bernadetta grew them just for you and Dedue, you know.”

“I remember your letter saying as much.” Dimitri pat Sylvain affectionately before pulling away to smile gently at Bernadetta. “Thank you again, Bernadetta. Dedue is taking good care of them.”

That, at last, caused Bernadetta to brighten. “Good! I hope my instructions weren’t too much. It’s not that I don’t trust him to keep them healthy but any flower is hard to maintain up here. Uh—” Her eyes cut to Lord Toal before landing on her feet. “I-I mean, you’re welcome, King Dimitri.”

Dimitri chuckled not unkindly. “How many times must I tell you… oh, never mind.”

Lord Toal, on the other hand, let out a barking laugh. “I’d heard the Duchess Gautier was shy but this is almost too much! How long has it been? Two years?”

“Two years and three months,” Sylvain announced proudly, causing Dimitri to chuckle again and Ingrid to roll her eyes. Bernadetta blushed and all but buried her face in Sylvain’s shoulder.

The bark came again. “Young love!” Lord Toal repeated wistfully. “It’ll run out sooner or later. Then she’ll barely want to look at you!”

No one joined in his laughter. Sylvain frowned but let the comment go. He and Bernadetta had endured their share of these jokes from Lords and Dukes alike. “Shall we get this meeting started, gentlemen?” Sylvain said pointedly.

“Indeed,” Dimitri agreed, taking the cue. “Ingrid, you are relieved of your duties while I am in the company of Duke Gautier.”

It was an overly formal declaration to make in the company of friends but Ingrid insisted on things being done in the official way while on duty. She gave a short bow. “Yes, your Highness.”

Sylvain slowly removed his arm from around Bernadetta as Dimitri ordered the relevant reports and maps be gathered from his carriage. “I’ll see you tonight?” He whispered. 

“Y-yeah. Good luck.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and hurried to Ingrid, her blush back in full force. Lord Toal chuckled and Sylvain suddenly wished he would just go inside already. “I planned dinner in town tonight, if that’s okay?” Bernadetta asked as Ingrid pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket. “They have good meat and the place next door always has fresh sweets.” 

“Sounds good to me! As long as there’s enough!” Ingrid looked cheery at the idea of a meat feast, which seemed to set Bernadetta at ease. 

The men waved as the pair left through the front gates. Sylvain nearly jumped when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “Finally free from her clutches. Better make the most of it. You have to savor any break from the nagging!”

The blue and red of Bernadetta’s hat faded from view. Sylvain shrugged off the hand and turned for the door. “Bernadetta doesn’t nag,” he said coldly.

Lord Toal didn’t seem to mind the tone. “Ah, yes, that would be the honeymoon phase talking. Of course she’s precious and one of a kind and all that—”

“She is,” Sylvain asserted.

“— but you’ll be at each other’s throats in a few years time. Take it from me, your Grace, someday you’ll sigh more than you smile.” With another guffaw, Lord Toal went inside. Sylvain itched to argue the point more, but Dimitri caught his eye and shook his head. Now wasn’t the time. 

Sylvain chanced one last glance at the front gates as Dimitri followed Lord Toal. There was no need for Bernadetta to be part of this meeting, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than for her to be at his side. To rub it in Lord Toal’s face that they were happily in love and planned to remain so. 

How long until they were out of the “honeymoon phase” and people started to seriously consider they were devoted to one another? Was Sylvain just being naive? 

The thought made him frown, and so he shook it away and joined the other two. Dinner was ready and there were plans to make.

* * *

Hours later, with the moon fully in the sky and torches lit up and down the corridors, the three of them agreed the meeting could come to a halt. 

“I thank you both for your assistance,” Lord Toal said as he rolled up the map of his territory. “The people of Itha can deal with beasts no problem, but all this bandit activity has been no good for business. I’m sorry Gautier-Blaiddyd trade lines have suffered.”

“All will be well now,” Dimitri assured him. “ Once I send off these reports to my husband, he can send the correct battalion to protect the roads. And Duke Gautier’s men will find the thieves' hideout soon enough.”

Lord Toal offered a genuine grin. Sylvain had almost forgotten his earlier transgressions. For all he had rubbed Sylvain the wrong way on arrival, it was obvious the man was protective of his people. Clearly he had governed the land long enough to strike a balance between humble and confident; both proud of his troops and able to ask for help when needed.

All the lord’s positive qualities fell from Sylvain’s mind as the three left the meeting room and a servant shook their head when Sylvain asked if Ingrid and Bernadetta were back yet. “Women like to gossip. There’s nothing to worry about!” Lord Toal nudged him. “Give the girl time to complain about you.”

Sylvain whipped around, about to finally speak his mind, when there came the sound of raised voices at the top of the stairs. The men looked over to see Ingrid stepping into the hallway, supporting a wobbly Bernadetta. Her cheeks were flushed, hat clutched in her hand and hair askew, stance unsteady as Ingrid brought them to a stop. 

A gasp fell from Bernadetta’s lips and she pointed down the hall. “ _ There _ he is! The red haired one!”

Dimitri and Lord Toal looked to Sylvain in amusement. “Uh,” Sylvain began, “yes, I’m here, Bernadetta. Is something wrong?”

“I love you!”

Ingrid groaned. “I’m sorry, Sylvain. I think she had a bit too much wine after dinner.”

Sylvain stepped forward and Bernadetta toppled into his arms. She grinned up at him, eyes unfocused. “‘ove you, Sy’vain.”

“I love you too,” he replied with barely restrained laughter. To Ingrid he said, “She doesn’t normally drink.”

“I know, but she insisted.” Ingrid shrugged apologetically. “It was just a glass or so. I really didn’t think it would affect her this much.”

Bernadetta gasped again. “Bend down a bit, you’re too tall sometimes.” Sylvain complied, and Bernadetta planted a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth. She giggled, a high pitched thing he rarely heard from her.

The moment was ruined by that damnable barking laugh. “Driving the poor thing to drink already, are you? We’ll wait in the library while you get someone to look after her. If it suits his Majesty, I’d like to make a toast to—”

But Sylvain wasn’t going to stand for this any longer. Not in his house, not in their home, not now that had everything he wanted. Drawing another giggle from Bernadetta, Sylvain picked her up. “I will be tending to my beloved wife myself. Your Highness, Ingrid, I trust you can find your way to your rooms? It’s the same ones as always.”

Ingrid nodded as Lord Toal began hurriedly backtracking. Sylvain turned to glare at the older man and found Dimitri doing the job for him. A better job, actually. There weren’t many who could stand strong under Dimitri’s scowl. “Rest well,” Dimitri said without looking away from the withering lord. “We will see you at breakfast.”

With that, Sylvain walked away with purpose. Bernadetta wrapped her arms around his neck as they moved. “We should go to the Itha Plains one day. I remember going with the Professor years ago. There were lots of plants there I’d never seen in the Empire.”

Sylvain kissed her forehead. “We can go once the bandit problem is taken care of.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. You can set your next book there.”

“Yeah,” she rested her cheek against his neck. “It c’n be about a lost lil’ flower who gets attacked by a bunch of monsters. But one monster protects her ‘nd they run away together. And the monster’s gotta have red hair. And a beard.”

“Monsters don’t have beards.”

Bernadetta pouted up at him like that was Sylvain’s fault. “But I  _ like _ beards!”

“I know, my love, I know.”

After some fumbling, Sylvain opened their bedroom door. The bed had been made since their departure; all the quilts Bernadetta had gathered previously were smoothed out over the mattress and pillows. Sylvain turned Bernadetta’s side down and set her on the bed. 

“Speaking of plants,” she said as he knelt to take her boots off, “you remember back in school? When I yelled at you for writing me a letter but you followed me when I hid in the greenhouse? And then I yelled at you again but you pointed out a pretty flower and asked me about it?”

Sylvain’s mood had been rising the longer she spoke and now he was grinning again as he replied, “I do. It was Angel’s Trumpet, right? All parts of the plant can kill you?”

A hiccup made Sylvain look up. Two fat tears coursed down Bernadetta’s cheek. “Y-You remembered!” She wailed. Covering her face, she flopped back onto the bed.

“Of course I did! Bernie—” Sylvain stood and straddled her, pulling her hands away and kissing her palms. He laughed outright at her trembling bottom lip.

She sniffed. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”

She nodded. Sylvain climbed off the bed and helped her to her feet. As he undressed her, inelegantly tossing her clothes to the floor with no intent to clean up until tomorrow, Bernadetta went on. “I was thinking about that because Hubert wrote asking— oh, Hubert says hi, by the way. Did I tell you that? He doesn’t always say hi to you but I wrote in my last letter that you kinda missed Felix so I said to say hi to Felix and Ferdinand from us and I think he wrote that back to be polite. But it’s still nice because you deserve a lot of hellos… Uh...”

“Angel’s Trumpet,” Sylvain reminded, rising to his knees to unloop her scarf.

“Oh, yeah.” She frowned. “Um. We should get one. That’s my point.”

“We should get  _ more _ poisonous plants? We have a whole section in the greenhouse for them already.”

He ducked down again to tug her socks off as she considered that. “Yeah but… none of them are orange.” Bernadetta touched his hair as if petting grass. “I like orange. And red. Warm colors.” Without warning, she surged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck again, burying her face in his hair. “ _ You’re _ warm. You’re always  _ warm _ . I love you.”

He held her tight around the middle and picked her up like that with ease. Her legs wrapped around him. “I love you too.” If Bernadetta was going to keep saying it, so was Sylvain. It had a dual purpose— every time she said it, Sylvain felt like a cherished thing. And every time Sylvain said it back, it felt like kicking Lord Toal in the throat.

With some maneuvering, he lay them on their sides, still wrapped around each other. Bernadetta only let go when it became clear her arm would get squished under him if she didn’t. “I’ll be right back,” Sylvain promised with a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m going to get you some water.”

“Don’t wanna drink anymore,” she mumbled into her pillow.

“You might later.”

He got up and undressed as quickly as possible. Once ready for bed, he poured a generous glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser and set it down on her nightstand. Bernadetta’s eyes were closed by the time he climbed back into bed. The quilts were a mix of ones she had brought from home and new ones gifted to them after the wedding. With great care, Sylvain tucked them all around Bernadetta and himself. Her cheeks were still flushed, and he hadn’t the heart to loosen her grip from the hat. 

Like this, feeling this loved and loving her in return, Sylvain couldn’t imagine that ever going away. Not in one year or one hundred. And if Bernadetta’s ramblings were anything to go by, she felt much the same. Or would if she had a coherent thought at the moment.

Gently, in case she really was asleep, Sylvain lay a hand over hers. “I love you,” he stated. 

Bernadetta shifted closer and let out a quiet giggle. “You remember the first time you asked to sleep together and I panicked ‘cause I didn’t understand? ‘nd you just meant this? Just sharing… just sleeping…”

“I remember.”

“I loved you a lot after that.” She cuddled into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her automatically. From the first time they had shared a bed during their army days to now— it always felt like his arms were made to hold Bernadetta. No other girl he had slept with as a teen fit against him quite like his wife. 

A sleepy sigh tickled his skin and was followed by another sloppy kiss. “Night, Sylvain.”

“Good night, Bernadetta. I love you. So,  _ so _ much.”

“Heheh, I’ll have to put that in the book. Maybe I’ll make the flower say it. The flower feels the same. She loves  _ you _ so, so much...” Then Bernadetta let out a soft snore.

Sylvain smiled and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll get you some Angel’s Trumpets next month when we visit Edelgard. You can show me how to handle them safely. We’ll plant them together like we did all the other ones. And then you can show me how to make hats right. And I’ll take you to the Plains. And I’ll never stop loving you.” Sylvain ran his hand down her back before reaching over to snuff out the candle beside them. 

“We have so much time, Bernadetta,” he murmured, relaxing into their bed, reveling in the small puffs of her breath on his neck. “My wife. We can do everything that makes us happy."


End file.
